


Hanging By A Thread, Trying to Hold On

by flipflop_diva



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Maria Hill, Canon Compliant, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Female Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Hiding, Minor Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Natasha Needs a Hug, POV Natasha Romanov, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 07:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7352269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Natasha let her head fall back against the scratchy fabric of the couch. She closed her eyes. Her head hurt, and she was exhausted. Physically, mentally, maybe even emotionally. Things used to be so much easier when she didn’t care, when she wasn’t attached to anyone, when other people’s safety and well-being meant nothing to her.</i>
</p>
<p>After the events of Civil War, Nat has a lot to figure out. Maria tries to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hanging By A Thread, Trying to Hold On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geckoholic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/gifts).



> Written for geckoholic for the Every Woman fest. 
> 
> Geckoholic, I loved all your prompts! I hope I did them justice. Enjoy!

“It’s bad. It’s so bad.” Natasha pressed herself back against the wall of the hallway off the conference room, the phone gripped tightly in her hand. For once, there was no one else in sight, but she knew that wouldn’t last long. Even though she had willingly signed the Accords, no one here trusted her. She wasn’t under any delusion that they did.

“I know,” came the voice on the other end of the line. “I’ve been getting updates.”

Of course she had. SHIELD may not exist officially, but that was never going to stop Maria.

“We have …” Natasha glanced down at her watch. “fifty-eight hours to bring them in. I just …”

“Hope someone doesn’t kill someone else?” 

Natasha hadn’t wanted to say it, but she closed her eyes at Maria’s words. No matter how many people they had on their side — and right now there weren’t that many — this wasn’t going to end well. Steve — and Sam and Bucky along with him — was never going to give up that easily. Not when he thought what he was doing was right. It was the one quality she most loved and admired about him, even if that one quality was what scared her the most now.

And Tony wasn’t going to give up either. He just as strongly believed in what he was doing, just as strongly believed that the Accords were the right thing, that the Avengers needed to play by the rules.

She knew Tony expected their side to do anything they could to bring the others in, but even if it was the best way to keep the Avengers — her team, her _friends_ , the closest thing she’d ever had to a family — together, could she really do that? Could she really look Steve in the eye and force him to do something he didn’t want to do?

“What do I do?” Natasha whispered now, into the phone.

She heard Maria sigh on the other end of the line. “Just be careful, Nat,” she said. “But whatever happens, know you’re not alone.”

•••

It was well past midnight when she slipped up the stairs of the darkened building, the only working light a lone bulb hanging from the ceiling of the rundown lobby. She was dressed all in black, her long red hair tucked up under a baseball cap, her head bent low as she’d navigated this part of the city, keeping to back alleys and shadowy streets as much as she could.

She’d once told Steve that the rules of going on the run meant walking, not running, and hiding in plain sight. The first still applied. The second was a lot harder when everyone in the world knew who you were.

She climbed up the rickety stairs of the apartment complex in the dark, her feet knowing by muscle memory every creaky step to avoid. She waited until she was in front of the door, the white fluorescent numbers that let anyone who might pass by know this was apartment 62 just barely readable, until pulling the key out of the lining of her shirt, fitting it easily into the lock and turning the handle.

The door swung open easily, and Natasha stepped inside, quickly shedding her shoes and padding down the hardwood hall in her bare feet to the living room. Everything was just how she remembered. A threadbare couch with an oversized chair to match, a small wooden coffee table that always looked like it was going to tip over, a small tv in the corner and absolutely nothing that gave away any information about the person who sometimes lived there.

There was one thing that was different, though, and Natasha smiled wearily at the familiar face that looked up from a tablet to gaze back at her.

“Well, if it isn’t America’s Most Wanted,” Maria said, setting the tablet down on her lap, the glow of it perfectly centered on the smirk on her face.

“More like the World’s Most Wanted,” Natasha corrected, dropping the small bag she had been carrying on to the floor and tugging off the baseball cap, before heading over to the couch to drop down beside Maria.

“How’d you know I’d come here?” Natasha asked, her soft voice sounding loud in the quiet of the safehouse.

“Because I know you.”

Natasha let her head fall back against the scratchy fabric of the couch. She closed her eyes. Her head hurt, and she was exhausted. Physically, mentally, maybe even emotionally. Things used to be so much easier when she didn’t care, when she wasn’t attached to anyone, when other people’s safety and well-being meant nothing to her.

She used to only have to care about whether she survived, whether she made it out. But now …

She turned her head and cracked her eyes open to look at Maria, who was watching her carefully.

“I don’t even know where he is,” she whispered softly, and she knew Maria knew she meant Steve. “And the others …” She trailed off. She had been there when they had taken them away, had watched Ross instruct his men to cuff all of them, put them in unmarked cars. She still wasn’t sure why T’Challa hadn’t reported her then; he’d had to have known she’d run. She thought maybe it was the one courtesy he was granting her for being kind to him after his father’s death.

It didn’t make it better, though, being here in a safehouse while the rest of them were suffering. She wanted to help them, but for once, she felt completely helpless, completely powerless. 

“Steve will get them out,” Maria said to her now. She sounded so confident about it, Natasha wondered if she knew something.

“I should get them out,” she said. “It’s my fault they ended up there.”

“You know it’s not,” Maria answered. 

“I should have sided with them …”

“You did what you thought was right.”

“Did I really?” Natasha wasn’t so sure anymore.

“You wanted the Avengers to stay together. You thought that was the right way. No blames you for that.”

Natasha made a sound in the back of her throat. She _had_ wanted them to stay together. Desperately. So much so she had been willing to give up some of her freedom to do it. But look how it had turned out.

“I just didn’t want to lose them.” She scoffed. “And now I’ve lost all of them.”

Something pricked the back of her eyes, and Natasha realized with horror that she wanted to cry. She pressed her palms into her eyelids to keep the tears at bay.

She felt Maria shift beside her, the warmth of Maria’s leg suddenly pressing against hers. “You’re not alone,” Maria said. “We’ll figure this out.”

Natasha dropped her hands, tilted her head, met Maria eye for eye. “I love him,” she whispered. She had never said that out loud before. Hell, she hadn’t even admitted it to herself until she was standing in an airport hangar across from him, realizing she would have done anything he asked her to because it was _him_.

“I know,” Maria said, and somehow that wasn’t surprising. She’d probably known it long before Natasha had. Ever since Natasha had first joined SHIELD, Maria had seemed to understand her in a way no one else ever could, sometimes even more than Clint.

“What am I going to do?”

“I don’t know.” She felt Maria move beside her, and then warm fingers slid over hers. “But we’ll figure it out.”

It wasn’t exactly the answer Natasha was looking for, but Maria was right. At least she wasn’t alone. She let herself lean into Maria’s body next to her and tried to take some comfort in that. They could figure out a plan in the morning.


End file.
